


Where's The Person That I Know

by Violette_Pleasures



Series: In A Good Mood Drabbles (tumblr prompt fills) [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: A little, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Fluff, M/M, Make up sex, Making Up, Riddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even remember what had started the fight. It seemed to go from nothing to everything in the bat of a lash, the intake of a breath before an irritated sigh.





	Where's The Person That I Know

**Author's Note:**

> Nygmobblepot for dragonquilwrites over on tumblr nvn I didn't expect to get into this one as much as I did, but I think this is some of my best work yet and I'm really proud ;w; This is also my first time writing this pairing, so I'm a little nervous...but I hope you guys like it! *Alfred voice* Cheers, mate!
> 
> Alsl, I've only seen up to s2 (am currently working on s3) so apologies for anything blaringly out of place.
> 
> The song for inspo was Paralyzed by NF

> Where's the person that I know?  
>  They must have left  
>  They must have left  
>  With all my faith
> 
>                  -Nate Feuerstein / Thomas Profitt

 

 

Oswald half-heartedly kicked a pebble into a muddy puddle with the toe of his scuffed oxford, the water rolling right off the long ago shined patent leather. Rain was falling in sheets, deafening white noise against the backdrop of the sounds of the city, soaking through his wrinkled suit. He hadn’t thought to take an umbrella with him, he had just stormed off, no real direction or destination in mind.

He felt downtrodden, lower than the impacted dirt serving as the foundation for the asphalt he now walked upon down some back alley in Gotham. It made him recall, vividly, his service to Fish Mooney, when he had stood in so many alleys holding an umbrella for her like the obedient boy he was. Or, well, used to be. Oswald straightened himself up and headed back in the direction of home.

The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even remember what had started the fight. It seemed to go from nothing to everything in the bat of a lash, the intake of a breath before an irritated sigh. Irritation. He remembered that clearly, Edward had become less and less patient with him lately and Oswald was feeling less and less inclined to always be his chipper self around him as it seemed to have absolutely no effect one way or the other on the other man’s mood.

Yes, Oswald could admit that at times, he could be rather fussy, a little finicky even, when it came to how they lived, but perfection was in the details; why wear thrift store when you could wear Fendi? Why eat a hamburger if you could have filet mignon? It was only because he spent so much of his life without, that now that he had it, he wanted the best for himself. And for Ed.

He just wish he could get him to understand that.

The custom black-tie suit hadn’t been a hint for Edward to change, it had been a gift of simple affection. Oswald felt best when he looked his most dapper, so he had assumed Ed would feel similarly.

The new, ivory-accented frame glasses wasn’t Oswald saying he didn’t like the ones Ed always wore, he had just wanted to give him something nicer than what he already had.

Edward seemed to take everything too personally and Oswald didn’t understand why. With anyone but him, sure, it made perfect sense; one never knows whom one can trust in their world. Since coming out as a villain of sorts, Ed’s life on the run had not been easy, but his life wasn’t exactly easy before, either. Oswald had tried his damndest to give Edward everything he could possibly need, but it felt like it wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t what Edward Nygma really wanted.

What did he want?

Not once since they had come to live together in the manor house, had Edward ever asked him for anything. He ate only when Oswald offered him food, which honestly, had ensured they both ate regularly and didn’t skip meals. Edward even did all his own laundry, measuring the liquid to his exact specifications and folding the freshly dried laundry just so. It was almost like Edward didn’t feel comfortable. Like the manor Oswald had provided for him was just a house and not a home.

_“This isn’t the most comfortable place to sit.” Nygma groused as he hunched over some papers on the dining room table.  
_

_“I can bring you a different chair.” Oswald had been quick to respond, his ingrained manners making him jump and rush to comfort those who weren’t comfortable in his home.  
_

_“No…its not that…” Edward’s furious scribbling had stopped for just a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Butch and the other henchmen in the parlor. “Its fine.”  
_

_scratch scratch scratch_

_The writing of his pen had seemed even louder in the silence that followed Oswald’s pursed lips, Edward’s pressed into a tight line. Mr. Edward Nygma was, well, an enigma himself. He wondered briefly if Edward had become curious because of his love of riddles or if he had been curious from the start._

Their home wasn’t a home, though, it was an operations base, an interrogation room, a torture chamber, on top of all the things that happened in a “normal” house. Despite the intensity with which Edward always looked him in the eye, everyone else received a duck of a head, a quick passing glance for the sake of politeness. He felt like such an idiot for not having seen it sooner.

 

}{}{}{}{}{

 

By the time he reached the gate, Oswald’s fingers were numb with cold and he was shivering in the harsh, late autumn wind. He sneezed almost as if for emphasis. He just wanted to go to bed. His whole body ached with the cold. As he passed through the door into the parlor, dripping muddy water stains onto the light colored carpet, he noticed someone asleep on the sofa.

There was a crystal decanter sat, rather uncharacteristically of Nygma, beside him on the chestnut side table. It was one of his father’s vintage sets….the Waterford he guessed, as the low firelight caught in the etched orb of the stopper, casting muted prisms around it. Nygma’s head was thrown back against the velvet of the couch, mouth open and glasses half slid down his face. Oswald took in the scene for a moment, wanting to look just a little longer on such a peaceful and unguarded Edward.

He slowly approached, and uncharacteristic of himself, knelt at his lover’s feet, resting a hand gently on the other’s knee. “Ed…Edward…” Oswald kept his voice low, not wanting to startle him. “Wake up…don’t you want to go to bed?”

Edward slowly stirred, opening his eyes and blinking around in the low light, before he realized who was talking to him. “Oswald…” He started a little, sitting up slightly straighter. “When…when did you get back?”

“Just now.” He offered a weak half-smile, resting his chin on the hand on Edwards knee. He knows its rude to drip rainwater on people, but he thinks that somehow Edward doesn’t care.

There’s a long silence between them, soot and ash and crackling embers filling the space between them. Oswald bit at his lips, waiting. Nygma furrowed and unfurrowed his brows, studying the man, self proclaimed King of Gotham, sitting at his feet, neck craned outward, long, slender throat exposed.

“…I’m sorry…” Edward spoke softly. He chanced lifting his hand and slowly sliding it into Oswald’s soaking wet hair. He moved one inky strand that was plastered to his forehead between his eyes.

Oswald didn’t move, just looked up at him with teary eyes, pale lips parted on forgotten words, then trembling into a watery smile. He leaned into the touch slightly, so happy just having Ed touch him again. It had been way too long.

“You’re wet…” Nygma paused for a moment. “I fall but don’t get hurt, I pour but I’m not a spout, what am I?”

“Rain.”

“I bloom when it rains, but shrivel when it stops, what am I?”

“An umbrella,” Oswald huffed a laugh through his nose, the familiarity of their exchange making that almost forgotten affection creep back into his chest.

“Yes. And you forgot yours.” Edward removed his hand and turned his gaze to the fire.

Oswald knew it was his way of saying he was worried, but the desire for Ed to come out and say it plainly, exactly what he meant, was still there. But he had been talking in riddles since they met and he didn’t think that was going to change any time soon.

“Do you remember,” Oswald shifted slightly. “that time you told me ‘for some love is a source of strength, but for you and I, it will always be our most crippling weakness’?”

Edward’s eyes shifted back to his face quickly, glinting behind his glasses. “I do.”

“I know that then, you were referring to something else, but the sentiment still applies, I think. ” He sat back on his heels, head bowed. “I understand now.” Oswald didn’t bother waiting for a reply, continuing on with the knowledge that those cinnamon bark colored eyes were watching him patient and expectant. “I’m sorry…I have managed to unconsciously encumber you with so many things since I moved you in here. All the people in and out of here…and its noisy all the time.” He gestured vaguely to the long table room. “And me,” He gave a self depreciating smile. “…always hovering. All this time, I’ve been so concerned with giving you what I _thought_ you wanted, that I haven’t taken the time to _ask_ you what you wanted. I’ve hindered your ability to be free and, I didn’t even realize it.” As he finished speaking, he felt tears he didn’t know were falling, slipping down his cheek.

Silence settled down heavily between them, down into the soft tweed of brown slacks, down into the cracks of the floorboard, down into the very back of Oswald’s throat, almost choking him. He glanced up, watching the tendon in Edward’s cheek flex as he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth.

“That’s not–…it isn’t–” The other made a small, exasperated noise and cast a glance at Oswald that could be considered venomous if he didn’t know him better; he knew that look meant hurt, pain, sadness.

In the next instant, Nygma was on the floor, kneeling, long legs bracketing the other’s shorter ones and cupping his cheeks in cool hands. He lifted Oswald’s face, making him look him in the eye. “You have not ‘encumbered’ me. You did not take away my freedom…I gave it to you.” Brandy colored eyes searched glacial blue, like the words he was looking for were written right there, tattooed on his iris. “I am weak now, because I choose to be. I would rather be weak with you, here and now, than spend a lifetime  of being strong without you.”

They had never said those three words to each other, it was a sort of unspoken rule between them that neither really seemed to understand how it had been established in the first place. But that, those few sentences coming from Edward’s lips, were the closest either of them had ever come to saying them.

Edward’s lips were on Oswald’s before he had even finished falling apart at his words and when Ed touched him, he absolutely crumbled. He kissed him back with quivering lips, tasting the salt of his own tears that slipped into the gap between their lips when they parted for breath. Their eyes met as they pulled back and Edward reached out first, untying Oswald’s tie and pushing sopping wet coat tails down too thin shoulders. Oswald was quick to follow, unbuttoning the other’s cardigan and button down. They were both nude and curling into each other’s arms, drinking down kisses like they were champagne, getting lightheaded and filled with warmth, in the span of a few breaths.

The heat of the fire seeped into Oswald’s clammy skin, in stark contrast to the cool, firmness of Edward pressing down on top of him; he tilted his chin back so he could wrap those long fingers around the smaller man’s throat. Edward’s fingers around his neck like a collar was safety, possession, submission. It had been Oswald’s idea, that first time he placed the other’s hand to his neck, but Edward took to it quickly and seemed to even enjoy it now. The firm grip around his neck and the rough scratch of the old rug against his back grounded him in the moment and all he could do was look on at his lover with pure adoration. He hadn’t been touched, hadn’t been with Edward like this in so long, he didn’t know just how touch-starved he was until that moment.

“Ed..I–” Oswald felt those forbidden words building up on his tongue and his jaw ached with it. He looked up at Edward, at the pleasing curve of his lips that he just adored, at the firm set of his brow that meant he was really concentrating and present in this, and the words just wouldn’t come.

“Shh, I know…me too.” Edward offered a soft smile, so much like the one he had given him when they first met. He bent and kissed Oswald again as he slotted himself in between his pale thighs.

Oswald pressed his lips together, trying to stifle the whimper he felt bubbling up out of him. Edward turning him into a complete mess was inevitable, they both knew it, but he always tried to hold it off as long as possible, part pride, part anticipation.

“Open your mouth…” Edward kept applying kisses to the edges and corners Oswald’s sealed lips, tracing the seam, gently licking and nibbling at them. When he didn’t comply, Edward’s voice dropped into something soft yet razor sharp. “Open.”

As soon as Oswald opened his mouth with a sharp intake of breath, Edward’s tongue was inside his mouth, lapping up every sound as he rocked their bodies together. Oswald knew he wasn’t supposed to, Ed was very particular about touch, but he needed it so badly…he gently brushed fingertips over the hand at his throat, needing to know the feel of it beneath his fingers, even if only for a moment.

Edward flinched at the touch, but didn’t remove the hand, just let out a heavy exhale and continued moving against Oswald. He sat back on his heels, hand leaving Oswald’s throat and sliding out from under his touch, to lift a slender leg up onto his shoulder. Ed’s fingers came back wet and cold, pressing between his thighs until they slid easily inside.

Oswald let out a gasp before he could repress it. His whole body began trembling; just two fingers had him already falling apart at his foundation. Ed moved painfully slow inside him, spreading the lube and stretching him with a gentility Oswald could barely recall the last time he had felt coming from him.

“Look at me…open your eyes.”

Oswald slowly blinked his eyes open. When had he even closed them?

Edward offered him another one of those smiles, smaller than the first, just a flash, that made his heart ache. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his member, maintaining fervid eye contact with the one beneath him as he began pressing inside. It was almost like a staring contest, the first one to blink loses and Oswald lost when he felt Edward’s hip bones pressed flush against him.

“Ed–!” Oswald cried out, back arching off the floor, when Edward started to move. He clenched his fists tight at his sides, fingers itching to reach up and wrap arms around the man above him and pull him close and closer. His head fell to the side, needing to take a short reprieve from those eyes. He crossed his wrists and placed them above his head, his last effort to keep his hands to himself.

“Oh…”

At that small sound, Oswald’s eyes flew open, attention jerking back to Edward who was looking down at him with an odd mixture of emotions that he had never seen before, let alone could read.

“You’ve never done that of you’re own accord before.” A small disbelieving smile quirked the corners of his mouth upwards.

If Oswald had thought his first smile had been the best, he was just proven wrong. He wanted to do whatever he could to keep this surprised, proud smile on Edward’s face.

Edward began moving then, small puffs of breath against the inside of a fair thigh the only sign of his exertion. As he got closer, he dropped the leg on his shoulder and grabbed both to hook around his hips, then hauled Oswald up as he sat back on his heels, sinking as deep as he could into the other. Long fingers dug into Oswald’s hip and low back, rocking him just like he wanted.

Oswald keened loudly, tossing his head back as he was righted onto Edwards’s lap. His hands hovered at his sides, stomach muscles aching to keep himself upright and balanced.

Edward’s eyes flicked up to him, darkened with lust and desire, his hot breath fanning out over Oswald’s chest. “Touch me.”

Oswald’s hands moved so quickly, he startled himself. He twined thin arms around Edward’s shoulders, pressing his forehead into the curve of a sharp collarbone. “Edward…”

Edward hummed his approval and reached between them, stroking the other, his hips picking up speed. “Oswald.” The name is whispered against his lover’s sternum, lips dancing across his flesh with each syllable.

They both find completion one step behind the other. Oswald breaks with a shout, a mixture of a moan and Edward’s name, panting and flushed pink all over. Edward comes much more quietly, a low groan that ends with Oswald’s name whispered like a solemn prayer.

“Edward?” Oswald laid pressed back to front with his lover, both of them under the fur throw kept in a basket by the fire, heads propped up on velvet cushions from the sofa. “Where is everyone?” He was just now noticing how long they had been lying there alone and undisturbed, a rarity in that place.

“Well…”

Oswald could feel the sneaky, smirk against the nape of his neck as Edward kissed him there.

“I hope you don’t mind too much, but I sent them all away. Told them to go find somewhere else to sleep tonight…possibly for the whole weekend actually.” Edwards voice was quiet, but animated like he was smiling wide as he spoke. “I was so angry I think I might have sent them away for the whole weekend.” He laughed at that.

Oswald glanced over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of that laugh. He couldn’t help the resulting smile that spread across his face. “I guess Gotham can run itself for a few days…” He mused with a chuckle and snuggled in closer to the other.

Edward hummed his approval on a long, lazy sigh. His eyes slipped closed for a moment, Oswald wondered if he had fallen asleep again, he looked so at peace. “Oswald?” He cracked his eyes open, still half-lidded and sleepy.

“Yes?”

“Of no use to one ,yet absolute bliss to two.The small boy gets it for nothing. The young man has to lie or work for it. The old man has to buy it. The baby’s right, the lover’s privilege, the hypocrite’s mask. To the young girl, faith; to the married woman, hope; to the old maid, charity. What am I?”

Oswald’s brows furrowed as he mulled the riddle over; he’d never heard this one before. “I don’t know,” he said with a slight shrug.

Edward wrapped an arm about Oswald’s chest and pulled him that much closer. He nosed at his ear, making the other shiver. Just feeling the parting of his lips against his ear for an intake of breath before his words, filled Oswald with an odd sense of anticipation.

“Love,” he breathed.

 

 

 


End file.
